


Hold

by SheelaNaGig



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blackwall Fic Friday, D/s elements, F/M, Femdom, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, kinda sorta 69
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheelaNaGig/pseuds/SheelaNaGig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surviving battles makes Blackwall randy, but the Inquisitor is too exhausted to sate his lust. So she makes him take matters into his own hands...while she watches, of course.</p><p>Shit, it's still Blackwall Fic Friday here in the EST. So have some Female Trevelyan/sub!Blackwall smut I wrote when I should be working on the second chapter of <i>Close Quarters</i>. Whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold

Nymeria had barely shed her light armor before Blackwall's arms encircled her waist from behind. The burly, warm body dispelled the biting chill that seeped into every region of Emprise du Leon. She welcomed his touch.

Echoes of Imshael's propositions and taunts stubbornly ebbed to the back of her mind.  Only now did the slow burn of her aching arms and legs steadily grow louder. The post-battle exhaustion exacerbated by the energy sapping climate. Right now, all the Inquisitor wanted of this night was to nestle into Blackwall's cozy embrace and sleep until the quartermaster woke her next morn. 

The clean scent of lye lingered in the chilled air, melding with crisp aroma of sentinel pine and other evergreens which blanketed the snowy woodland terrain. Blackwall favored the bland soap over her spicier, sweeter ablutions. According to him, the lye cut the metallic tinge of spattered blood instead of just masking it. 

Thoughts swabbing off other people’s blood scattered as he nibbled her nape. 

"What's got into you, darling?" Nymeria said before she felt the steely bulge jabbing her bottom. She knew it wasn't his pommel. "Oh." 

He chuckled in a low, sultry way, lathering heat at the apex of her thighs no matter how tired the rest of her body felt. "Combat gives a man a terribly stubborn cockstand. I was hoping you'd be willing to assist in alleviating me of such a condition now that we're together."

Nymeria reached up, entwining her fingers over the hand kneaded her clothed breast. "Is it always like that after you fight?"

"Aye," he said, nudging the firm length harder into her bottom to support his claim. "All that adrenaline and narrowly avoiding death tends to summon a soldier's baser beast upon victory."

The Inquisitor turned in his arms, now noticing the tied tent straps over the breadth of his bare shoulder. Blackwall had stripped off his quilted coat and under tunic along with plates of armor, obviously predicting her consent. How greedy! Where was the finesse? Where was the slow seduction? Of course, this was same man who had swived her in a barn. 

Not that she minded at the time...or any of the other times afterwards they shared a heated night in the hayloft. But those time sparked and blazed by overwrought tension and filthy words whispered in alcoves made for stolen kisses. Not after a grueling battle. Especially not with him accosting her by prodding his impatient prick against her arse.

Yet as tired and sore as she felt, she wanted him. Would there ever be a situation where she didn’t want him? But the Inquisitor couldn't give in that easy. So she decided to teach him a lesson in patience.

"So tell me, soldier…” She traced the outline of his prick through his trousers.  
“What ever did you do when I, or any other willing woman, wasn't around to avail her body for your relief?"

His lolled back with a thick hiss, likely savoring the friction sliding along the underside of his cock. "We've jested about it, but the best jests spring roots in truth."

"Which is?" Nymeria pressed on, wanting to hear him admit to it.

"Swiving my own hand, of course.” Blackwall tried to sound casual, but the tight admission crawled through gritted teeth.

"Mmmm, so why would it be any different now?" she nibbled on her bottom lip, looking downright demure.

"Because my lady is most generous and beautiful."

"Generous with her quim?" the Inquisitor retorted. A frosty grin curled her lips but she unlaced the front of his breeches nonetheless. "Because I'm supposed to be wet and ready to spread my legs like a strumpet at your beck and call."

A sudden panic flickered in his blue eyes and Nymeria stifled a giggle. "My lady, Nym, I didn't mean it like—“

"Take your trousers off and lay on the bedroll," she bade and turned from him to pour a cup of wine, enjoying the glimpse of bafflement painted on his face.

The breath left him a hearty exhale. “As you wish, my lady,"

She heard his remaining clothing fall with a rasp and rustle, could smell the male musk and sweat which no soap could ever conceal. The two person bedroll rustled beneath his weight.

"Tend to yourself," the Inquisitor commanded without turning around to observe his reaction. 

An incredulous grunt sounded behind her. "Surely, you can't be serious."

Now she faced him. Her eyes drinking in a generous view of the ruddy prick. The turgid organ jammed into his stomach as he remained sitting up. At that tempting moment, even Nymeria doubted her commitment to the previous command.  Blackwall was already a well-endowed man, but the battle had indeed summoned his beast, larger and angrier than she'd ever seen it. Such an alluring sight stirred fleeting visions. Thoughts of his fat shaft pushing into her body nearly buckled her knees from beneath her. Resolve wavered where it sprouted, but she persisted all the same. 

"Tend to yourself. I want to watch you." She gave the command as easily as she gave any other.

His thick brow darkened over flinty eyes and she worried she'd finally pushed him too far. Even a man as vulgar and salacious as Blackwall had his limits.

Which is which Nymeria steeled every nerve in her hand, fighting off a tremble of arousal when his hand fastened upon his length. The first attentive stroke fondled from root to tip. Color seethed high on his cheeks and gritted teeth flashed in his beard, but he obeyed her lurid demand. 

She leant against the correspondence table, sipping her wine, watching his hand work over his shaft rougher than she'd ever dare handle him. Men were so harsh with self-ministrations. No wonder she'd spent her first encounters with past lovers asking for a slight pressure rather than brutal stroking.

The silence of the tent peppered with hitching gasps and staggered moans among the strange slapping sound his hand made on his shaft. He'd clenched his eyes shut, strong brows pinched in concentration and possibly fantasy.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, training the wavering lust from her voice. 

Blue irises sparkled like sapphires beneath the heavy hooded lids. A wry half-smirk twitched in the corner of his mouth.

"About you, my lady.” He left it at that.

"Anything in particular?" she inquired, ignoring the tendrils of fire licking at the wetness between her legs.

The pink of his tongue slid over the darker pink of his dry lips. "Fucking you on your throne. In front of everyone."

"Oh?" Her voice cracked and Nymeria inwardly cursed herself.

“You riding my cock as I sit on your throne. Your naked body facing forward. Those pretty tits jiggling with each thrust. My hands would keep those beautiful thighs spread as my cock plunders your sodden pink cunt. So all the dignitaries and nobles see just what their Inquisitor craves. That for all their money and power, no sniveling nobleman could ever satisfy you the way I do," his voice strained under his vivid words, confessing his story probably driving him closer to spending. 

"Hold," she demanded, watching his hand as it stilted to a halt. 

Blackwall shot her a glare that dripped in malice. "If you wanted to see me fuck myself then why am I to stop?"

"Because I said so," she supplied and quaffed her sweet wine. "You never did lay down on the bed as I commanded.”

He immediately flung himself back, nestling his hips into the fabric to get comfortable. 

Nymeria groped his supine body with her auger stare. “You may resume.”

Again, the hand stroked his prick. Only now he bucked into his tight fist as strong thighs wound with tension. It didn’t take long for the sweat to bead on his forehead and the tell tale flush to creep from his cheeks and onto his neck and chest.

“Hold.”

“Oh, now you’re just being heartless,” he groused, thumping the back of his head against the bedroll. 

The petulant accusation inspired a laugh from his lady. Wordlessly, she stripped off the remainder of her clothes and stood over him. Although she was unwilling to concede so easily, there were other parts of his body she quite enjoyed beside his prick.

Facing his his feet, she straddled his face, thighs still slightly achy from battle. Her exhausted body rallied as his brittle groan grazed humid breath over her eager quim. Nymeria let the current of desire and carnal voracity carry her past all thoughts of anything outside this tent. These four canvas walls offered sanctuary to the lovers, liberating them from responsibility, if only for a little while.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, grinding her tender nether lips over his mouth. Another lusty groan answered her. Nymeria slathered her sex on his grace in lengthy strides, glazing him in her juices. “I didn’t catch that, soldier. I asked you if this is what you wanted.”

The response came muffled against her labia. “Aye, my lady.” 

“Good, because you’re going to suckle and lick until I come on your face. Understand?”

"Fuck yes, Nym. This is the best view I've had all day," he groaned and dug his thick fingers into her hips before she slapped them away.

"You're to use those hands only on yourself, soldier. Your lady desires only the touch of your mouth and tongue. Think you can please her with only those?"

Another hot breath of a pant whispered along her swollen seam of aching flesh. "Aye, my lady. May I taste you now?"

"Yes," she bid, the monosyllables not even released fully of fher tongue before his lips set upon her. 

Despite his obvious hunger, Blackwall whetted his appetite with chaste kisses upon the outermost ridge of her intimate flesh. The subtle caresses, while pleasant, weren't the plundering stimulation Nymeria expected.

"If you don’t—“ she had started before his probing tongue clipped her quiet. The tip delved between her silky slick petals, circling the constricting opening of her quim. 

"If I don't what, my lady?”  he asked innocent enough yet she felt his smirk lifting against her sex.

Nymeria flushed and raked her nails from his hip to clavicle, feeling him arch beneath her with a hiss. "Your lady doesn't like it when you play games."

"On the contrary," he said, voice husky from want. "My lady loves when I play my games. Her cunt just got wetter. Any more and she'd drown me in her nectar. Elsewise, I'd simply have her on her back, folded in half with her ankles at my ears as give her my prick. Exactly as events are suppose to be between a man and a woman."

"And why is that?" She willingly walked into his jest.

"Cause I've got the cock, love. As Maker intended," he quipped.

Nymeria bucked against his mouth, wetting his mustache and hairy chin with a generous lather of her tangible desire. "If you don't stop jesting, we're going to visit that love shop in Val Royeaux and pick up one of those harnesses. Remember? The ones which will endow me like a man? I bet I could find one bigger than yours."

"Such a wicked woman," he chuckled and rasped his flat tongue along the tender bud of her clit. Blackwall probed every fold, mapping the part of her body which he had become so extensively acquainted with than any prior lover. So when he sucked the pearl between his lips and ever so lightly grazed it with his teeth, he had to anticipate the tangled moan to split from her lips. 

Each flick of his tongue shot a corresponding pulse out from her core, prickling in her nipples and even whispering over her dry lips. She knew this teasing rhythm well; he meant to torture her, edging her on the cusp before easing her back down. Every swipe of his tongue was both a gift and a torment, simmering her release but keeping it from boiling over. All the while her glassy gaze fixed on the large hands stroking his cockstand in a maddeningly slow pace.

"You do not cum until I do. So why are you delaying it?" She asked in a brittle, taut voice like an overstrung crossbow.

"Because I know when you finally break, you'll scream my name loud enough that the Maker and Andraste will hear you. As well as the entire camp."

"Hold," she ordered through clenched teeth. Blackwall ceased all ministrations and laid still, anticipating her next order, probably begrudging her.

With a husky little chuckle, Nymeria leant forward, her hair caressing Blackwall's hard stomach in teasing brushes. 

"This is such a versatile position," she mused aloud before tracing her tongue along the groove of muscle between thigh and stomach. A notable tremor reverberated in his tense muscles. She hovered a breath's distance from his flushed cockhead, licking her lips as a bead of pre-cum seeped from his slit. The warriors hips bucked the second she collected the salty, bitter drop with barest flick of her agile tongue. Nymeria giggled at his body's eager response and playfully batted his cock, almost hypnotized by the way it spasmed up and down.

"Woman, one day you are going drive me to brink and I'll not be held responsible for my actions," he snarled.

"Yes, yes," she replied as if she found him droll. "Fuck me until I walk funny, bend me over a table as you pound my pretty arse, take every tight hole. Soldier, have I ever told you are all mouth and no teeth?"

Nymeria clamped his wrists to the floor the very second they surged up. Despite his strength and heavier body, leverage was on her side.  However, all the leverage she could muster couldn't save her from an even dirtier tactic.

He licked and sucked in earnest this time, capturing her clit between the grazing ridges of his teeth and sucked. Nymeria crumpled forward with gasp, relinquishing his wrists in the process. Instead of unseating her and having his way, Blackwall's fingers sunk into the supple cheeks of her bottom and spread them. The man loved holding her in that position, baring every inch of her body for his own viewing pleasure. He devoured her now, feasting on sensitive folds with little care to his rasping beard or scraping teeth. 

There was no escape from him. Not that she'd want to. But the coarse hair of his stomach scoured her nipples as his fingers clutched her derrière in bruising relentlessness, overwhelmed as it pleased all the same. Whether she meant to or not, Nymeria clawed at his thick thigh. Angry red scores ripened in her wake, deep enough that scant rivulets of blood welled to the surface, wrenching a guttural curse from her lover. 

"Andraste's fine arse, lass," Blackwall uttered between licks. "Are you trying to tear me apart?"

"This is all your fault," she said weakly, nuzzling her sweaty temple on his hip bone, closing her eyes and letting his ministrations sweep her out to sea. 

"I seem to recall a certain wanton minx wanting to watch me fuck myself. But apparently she couldn't keep her quim off me. Though I'd rather have you the other way. My mouth on your pretty lips as my prick pummels your cunt."

Rousing what little strength her harried senses spared, Nymeria braced her body up on throbbing wrists. She should say _hold_. No, she should turn around and sink her hungry quim on his lonely cock which bounced with each fervid movement. As she shifted to pull away, Blackwall redoubled his effort, eliciting some the hottest slurps and ravenous groans in the process.

Finally, the quicksilver heat of arousal simmered, erupting, flooding from the pinpoint region of her clit and washing into her her fingers and toes. She was vaguely aware that she'd toppled upon him, chanting a cry of his name over and over. A well muscled stomach plush with a thin layer of bulk cushioned her cheek. The musky scent of him filled her lungs with each heaping breath of her after shocks. 

On wanton impulse alone, her hands sought his throbbing manhood, drawing him back to her lips as she dismissed her game. Pretense of hierarchy no longer reigned. In this moment, the drive to share the pleasure he gave her trumped her willful pride. To wring every little groan and incoherent swear with more satisfaction than watching him scowl in his earlier frustration. 

“Nym, you don’t have to if—“ he started.

“Shut it,” she interrupted before taking half of him in her welcoming mouth.

The perfect, albeit odd, position of her atop him allowed his cock to plunge deeper in her mouth. Nymeria found herself taking more of him past her tongue and into her throat, a maneuver which typically either choked or suffocated.

"Maker's balls, that's exquisite," he uttered and writhed beneath her. Blackwall continued to knead her arse and bucked his own hips in shallow thrusts.

A muffled affirmation reverberated over the velvety hard shaft disappearing past her lips. Sweat slicked, trapped between their bodies, the fragrant perfume which was uniquely there’s infusing the air around them.

"Fuck, Nym, you're going to make me spend," he warned through a clenched jaw. 

His warning only spurred her on harder, determined to have him spend in her mouth.

"Nym. Nym! Fuck!” His back arched off the bedroll and warm release erupted in her throat.

Now both of them collapsed, beleaguered by the lassitude which followed orgasm from an already weary body. They laid there for several minutes and Nymeria’s limbs felt like leaden. 

“I don’t think I can move,” she said in a drowsy voice and his chest lurched beneath her in a throaty laugh. “But seriously, I may pass out like this.”

“Aye, that’s how you know it was good,” he said, patting her buttocks with a light slap. “Sides, no matter to me. My face smells like your quim as is. And that just so happens to be one of my favorite scents in all of Thedas.”

That rallied her to roll from him, all her rogue’s grace gone as she floundered towards the wash basin. After they both cleaned up and the lanterns were snuffed, she laid her head upon his chest. Blackwall rucked the blankets around her shoulders in a comforting cocoon.

“I do not mean to make you feel like a strumpet,” he said after a long silence. “It’s just…” he paused, either seeking the right words or doubting the ones he thought of. “I always feel most alive after a battle. Food tastes better. Mead is sweeter. And now I have you here. The fascinating woman who lets me fight at her side and then shares her bed with me afterwards. Perhaps my desire for you can become a bit brusque at times.”

Nymeria ran her fingers though his beard, a habit which helped her fall asleep. “If I really didn’t want to sleep with you, my daggers would have joined the conversation. It’s just today drained me. And as much as I like swiving you, sometimes I just want to take shelter in your arms and cuddle until I fall asleep.”

“Cuddle away then, love,” he kissed her forehead and Nymeria drifted into a well-earned sleep.


End file.
